


All I Want for Christmas is Bows (and You)

by ConsultingWriter



Series: Home Fires [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dragon!Lock, Dragon!Sherlock - Freeform, Fluff, Hamish Watson-Holmes - Freeform, M/M, Parent!lock, dragon!Hamish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish's first Christmas season. </p><p>
  <i>Hamish likes the bows off the wrapped Christmas presents.<br/>Hamish does not, however, like the wrapping paper itself.<br/>John adds those little facts to his mental list of ‘Hamish: Dos and Don’ts’ and rescued the skull once for from being assaulted by another sticky padded bow.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas is Bows (and You)

**Author's Note:**

> This is really only semi-Christmas-y, but I didn't want to do anything _too_ cliché. I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Hamish likes the bows off the wrapped Christmas presents.

Hamish does not, however, like the wrapping paper itself.

John adds those little facts to his mental list of _‘Hamish: Dos and Don’ts’_ and rescued the skull once for from being assaulted by another sticky padded bow. 

The drakeling also appeared to have an odd affection for the blue and purple bows in particular. The presents that he’d stuck bows of those colors on were suspiciously de-bowed while random spots around the sitting room had mysteriously grown Christmas bows. The skull and the metal leg of Sherlock’s chair were fine examples of this strange phenomenon, as well as Hamish’s tail. John had lost count of how many times he had turned away for a moment only to turn back to see the drakeling’s tail covered from the tip to the babe’s bum  in ribbon while the presents were completely de-bowed. 

The babe hissed out an angry ‘no!’ before trying to grab the bow back. John rolled his eyes with a chuckle and relented, letting the child have the bow back. It went right back to its original spot: on the top of the skulls head. The babe babbled happily at the skull, stringing nonsensical words together and John chuckled again. 

Slowly, he grabbed a wrapped box from under the tree and placed it in front of the dragonling, watching him carefully. The baby looked up from his cheerful conversation with the skull and stared at the blue wrapped present for a minute, and then two, and then one more, and just when John was starting to relax about Hamish’s apparent hate for the presents themselves when the babe let out an angry shriek and puffed short flames and dark smoke at the wrapped box. 

The blonde quickly yanked the present away before the fire could catch on the paper and Hamish calmed down, still eyeing the box in mistrust. 

“No!” he scolded the box and then switched his gaze to John’s own, “No!” the babe repeated and John sighed. He tucked the box back under the tree with the rest of the presents and scooped Hamish, who was still clutching at his skull, into his arms. 

“You’re just as difficult as your Papa, I just want you to know that,” John chastised with mock despair “How exactly do you plan on opening your gifts if you keep trying to set the wrapping on fire?” 

“Bah!” Hamish responded with a sniff. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take all your toys back then,” John sighed with a shake of his head, trying to come across as sad “but at least you still have the bows.”

“Bows!” Hamish agreed cheerfully and in a surprisingly smooth sweep of his hand, he pulled the bow off of the skull and pushed it against his Daddy’s head; sticking it to his hair.

“Thank you, dearheart, I’ve always wanted a bow,” he chuckled, fluttering his eyes playfully. 

“Well,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him, and John’s smile stretched wider without his permission “What a lovely present to come home to find.” 

John turned around to face his husband, only to find the man right behind him. Before he could react to even stumble back in shock, long arms were winding around his waist and a light kiss was being pressed to his lips. 

He returned the kiss gently and pulled away with a soft smile “Good afternoon to you too.”

The dragon hummed and lifted Hamish from his arms “Have you been giving your Daddy trouble about the wrapping paper again?” It wasn’t a question and John resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the knowing cock of Sherlock’s dark eyebrow. 

“He almost set one on fire a minute ago; I don’t know why he hates the wrapping paper so much.” 

Sherlock chuckled again “It isn’t the paper, it’s the mystery, isn’t it Hamish?” he said, bumping the babe’s nose with his own “Yes,” he hummed “we can’t stand not knowing if our deductions are right, can we?” 

The babe babbled out his agreement, waving his arms around to emphasis his point. 

“Well he can wait until tomorrow to confirm his deduction and stop trying to burn the paper off,” he sent Sherlock a pointed look, the one that said that John was talking about Sherlock as well as Hamish “Or I can take all the gifts—right now—unwrap them at Ms. Hudson’s, and take them all back before he gets a chance to find out if he was right.”

He raised an eyebrow in challenge at the twin pouts he got. Sherlock nodded his head and Hamish stared back at him with wide eyes. 

“Good,” John said with a hint of finality “I’m glad we all understand each other, now” he said with a clap of his hands, “go find something to do, the both of you, I’ve got dinner to cook and I can’t do so with the pair of you underfoot.”

Sherlock sniffed and Hamish grumbled at him but snuggled into his Papa’s arms as the dragon stalked off to Hamish’s room.  

With that John made his way to the kitchen, humming under his breath and so caught up in his thoughts that he never saw his pair of Holmes sneak back down the stairs, camera in hand, nor did he hear the clicking whirr of a picture being taken. He certainly never realized that the blue Christmas bow was still settled in his hair. 

In the dim light of the hallway Sherlock smiled and Hamish cooed at the picture of his Daddy that glowed back at him from the camera’s screen. John could take back as many gifts as he pleased, their greatest Christmas gift was humming out a poor rendition of _Carol of the Bells_ and Sherlock didn’t think John planned on leaving ever. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this one is short but I've also got another fic for the series in progress, if that makes up for the length of this one any.   
> Let me know what you think, and as always, you can find me on tumblr at NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com


End file.
